


Winner

by mariehamlett



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Angst, Hurt, X-men - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariehamlett/pseuds/mariehamlett
Kudos: 2





	Winner

A line of students stood at the starting line of the dirt path that surrounded the school.   
“Alright students. The games are about to begin,” Xavier announced in a raised voice so everybody could hear and understand him clearly.   
“Just as a recap, mutations are in fact allowed. These games and challenges Dr. McCoy, Mr. Lehnsherr, and I have set up for you, is for everyone to learn to adapt to your environment. It may seem unfair, however, as you all know, life is unfair.” There were a few chuckles and murmurs at this statement.   
“The race will begin on my whistle,” Erik Lehnsherr announced raising a whistle to his mouth. All the students tensed up and got into position, awaiting the whistle.   
Kurt Wagner glanced around and knew several particular students were taking these challenges more seriously than others. There had been a rumor going around that the winner of the tournament, or whoever had the most points, got to do anything for the next day. Anything.   
Kurt looked to his right and saw Peter smirking ahead, knowing this contest was between him and Kurt. Warren Worthington iii was to Kurt’s far left, near to Jean and Jubilee. In all honesty, Warren mostly likely knew he wouldn’t win this challenge. Third or fourth place was probably his stance.   
The whistle rang. Kurt was ready.   
He knew exactly where the end was and he bamfed there. McCoy was waiting for him at the end and clicked the timer, smiling at him. Right behind Kurt, he felt a breeze rush past him.   
“Kurt, you’re first with 2 seconds. Peter, you’re second with 4,” McCoy confirmed.   
Kurt turned to Peter who gave him a high five and clapped him out the back.   
“What are you thinking of doing tomorrow if you win?” Peter asked, adjusting his goggles back onto his head.   
“I haven’t really thought about it. I wasn’t planning on winning. I just assumed either you or Warren would win,” Kurt admitted honestly.   
“Warren, you’re third with 45 seconds,” McCoy’s voice rang from behind the two students.   
Kurt turned around to see Warren nod. The angel was wind burnt in the face and his hair was tossed from the wind.   
“What are you staring at?” He asked harshly, brushing past Kurt and heading towards the second challenge already. Kurt frowned, but turned back to the end line and saw Jean flying and reaching the point.   
“Jean, you’re in fourth with 1 minute and 32 seconds.”  
***  
“The second challenge is based on strength and endurance,” Lehnsherr explained, hands clasped behind his back. “In this challenge, you will not be able to use your mutations for the first part, but for the second, you will. The first part consists of obstacles, similar to those of Spartan Races. The second part to this challenge is individually chosen for you. You will find your name on a card on a table at the end of the first part. Your card will tell you what to do and how to pass,” Lehnsherr looked over to Xavier who had the whistle in hand.   
“On my mark,” Xavier called out.   
The whistle rang.   
Kurt dashed to the first obstacle: a wall.   
Easy..  
Kurt had done this plenty of times in the circus. He easily jumped up and pulled himself up on the wall and slid down, not looking to see who was behind him.   
Kurt dashed onto the agility course. Several pads were lifted up and he had to run across them. Simple enough. If Kurt knew how to run across a thin rope, this was no problem, and he was right. He was across the pads in no time. The next obstacle was about 100 meters away. He knew it wasn’t Peter behind him or else he would’ve blown past Kurt, even without his mutation.   
Monkey bars across a mud pit was next. Leaping up, Kurt made his way across the bars in amazing time, and swung on the last one that gave him a few extra feet than normal.   
The fourth and final course before part two was running up a wall. Kurt had never done something like this, but he imagined all one would have to do was gain enough momentem and hang on tight.   
He saw it coming up. The motivation of being first and the prize was in the back of his mind. All he could think about was getting over this wall. He needed to do this.   
The wall was coming up and his legs were starting to ache.   
Not now. Please, not now.   
He ran and ran faster, up the wall and he reached for the top.   
He caught it. Smiling outwardly, Kurt used his practically unused upper body strength to pull himself up and slide down.   
He had to keep going. The table set up had the students’ name in alphabetical order so he jogged over to the W’s, knowing he had a few seconds before whoever was behind him caught up.   
* You will teleport to Lady Liberty and retrieve a blue handkerchief on the very top.   
* Next, you will retrieve a yellow handkerchief on roof of the World Trade Center.   
* Finally, you will retrieve a green handkerchief the roof of Notre Dame.   
* Return these handkerchiefs to Hank McCoy and the end zone.   
Lady Liberty? Notre Dame?!  
Kurt shook his head and bamfed. He couldn’t waste any time.   
The World Trade Center was the easiest to bamf to. He looked around desperately and saw the yellow handkerchief tied to a post, and flapping in the wind. Bamfing to it, he untied it with shaking hands.   
How am I going to have enough strength to bamf to Notre Dame and back?   
He quickly tied the yellow handkerchief around his belt loop and glanced over to Lady Liberty and her island.   
I’ve bamfed further than this. Don’t even think about your energy. It’s fine.   
Taking a deep breath, Kurt bamfed again, this time on top of Lady Liberty herself, and Kurt felt his head began to feel fuzzy and he released his breath.   
“Mein Gott, wo ist das ‘handkerchief’?” Kurt asked aloud, grasping the railing. Looking to his left, all the way at the torch, hung his designated blue handkerchief. Sighing, Kurt bamfed to the torch and cling on for his life as he untied his handkerchief, and bamfed back down to the platform once he had it in his hands.   
Out of breath, he began to secure it beside its pair.   
To Notre Dame.   
He closed his eyes and bamfed. Kurt must have blacked out because when he woke, he was on his back and the handkerchief was in sight.   
Danke, Gott.   
He crawled towards it on hand and knees, and nearly cried when it was finally in his grasp. The thought of dying crossed his mind, but he knew that that was probably too dramatic. He also knew he wasn’t very strong with long distance teleporting and knew a coma was likely.   
Coughing, he bamfed.   
***  
When Kurt woke up, he was laying in a bed and the lights were too bright for comfort.   
“Good, you’re awake,” somebody said, out of view of Kurt’s vision.   
“The handkerchiefs,” Kurt heard himself mumble, not quite sure where the strength came from.   
“Not to worry, Kurt. The handkerchiefs aren’t what you need to be worrying about right now,” Kurt’s hearing was going in and out and he wasn’t quite sure what the man was saying with the ringing overriding his voice.   
“The race,” Kurt tried to sit up, but felt a wave of nausea pass over him and immediately regretted it, holding his stomach and mouth, hoping the vomit wouldn’t come up.   
“The race isn’t a grade and certainly isn’t mandatory,” Hank, the man speaking from before, said.   
“You don’t understand, sir. I need to finish!” Kurt pleaded.   
“Kurt, this race isn’t going to determine your worth as an X-Man. You don’t need to hurt yourself,” Hank walked up in front of him.   
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have sent me to Notre Dame!” Kurt spat bitterly, hopping off the bed and walking out of the lab.   
“Kurt!” Hank called. “Kurt, you need to rest!”  
***  
“The fourth and final challenge of this race is meleé. I will pair you with your partner. How long each of you last determines the number of points you get. The one who wins gets 50 extra points,” Lehnsherr explained.   
Kurt frowned as he rolled his neck, fighting off his migraine.   
“Hey!” He heard a whisper from behind him. Turning around, Kurt saw Peter jogging up to him.   
“Hey,” Kurt tried to smile but it didn’t come out.   
“Hank cleared you already? Man you were out out. Like,” Peter ran his hand through his hair. “Anyways.. I wouldn’t worry about it, man. You’re still doing well in the tournament.”  
“I doubt it. I completely missed the third tournament,” Kurt rubbed his temples and sighed, looking over to Warren, who was stretching and listening to music with his headphones. Peter put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder.   
“Dude, you have 200 points. I don’t know if Hank has told you, but you finished first in the second tournament! May have blacked out for a good while, but you were first!”  
“H-how many points does Warren have?”  
Peter sighed.   
Oh no.   
“He’s in first with 225. We’re tied, actually, you and me. Second tournament was straight up hell. My legs are still sore,” Peter explained, trying to avoid Kurt’s attention away from the fact that Warren was beating him, and if destiny continued the way she normally does, Kurt and Warren would be paired up to battle again.   
“This is not good,” Kurt put a hand on his forehead.   
Erik Lehnsherr cleared his throat again.   
“In this challenge, you cannot maim your partner. If your partner is sent to the infirmary for more than bruises or a concussion, you will receive punishment,” he explained in an almost bored voice.   
“We will read off the partners at this time,” Hank McCoy announced, holding a clipboard, looking quite distraught.   
“First partners, Jubilation Lee and Ororo…”  
1: Jubilation Lee and Ororo Munroe  
2: Scott Summers and Peter Maximoff  
3: Kitty Pryde and Anna Marie  
4: Jean Grey and Ellie Phimister  
5: Kurt Wagner and Warren Worthington iii  
(And so on)  
\/ \/  
Kurt furrowed his eyebrows and sighed sadly.   
Why is it always me.   
Kurt walked over to his arena area and began to stretch his arms, looking down at the ground as to not to make eye contact with anybody in particular, especially Warren.   
“Alright students,” Xavier called out. “You know the rules. A teacher will be observing each group as they fight against each other. If they feel the need, they will step in and end the fight immediately. No points will be granted if that happens. Please step up to your designated areas.”  
Kurt was already there, looking at the tools provided and saw ropes, hammers, swords, knives, brass knuckles, and whips… Kurt turned away.   
Warren stepped onto the platform and slung a black dufflebag down. Kurt became mildly concerned.   
“Are you allowed to bring your own weapons?”  
Warren gave a smirk in reply and finished stretching.   
Oh man…  
Kurt had picked out a few weapons of his own, but he doubted he could use them without being eliminated. He would most likely send Warren to the infirmary if he used a cutlass on him.   
“Hello boys,” Xavier’s voice said from behind them.   
“Hello Professor,” Kurt said politely back. “Are you going to watch us?”  
“I am,” he smiled kindly.   
“Big surprise,” Warren muttered. It was no doubt that Charles had heard his sarcastic remark, but he chose to ignore it instead.   
“On my mark. 3...2..1.. go.”  
Neither Kurt nor Warren pounced on each other, they both simply stood still. Warren even crouched down to his dufflebag and zipped it open, and Kurt allowed him to. He didn’t know why he didn’t just kick him when Warren was off guard, but he just didn’t.   
When Warren grabbed what he needed to out of the bag, he stood up smirking, a dark look plastered on his face.   
“You son of a whore!” Kurt yelled full of rage and bitterness. Warren gripped the whip in his hand and gave it a good crack on the ground, but Kurt refused to flinch.   
“Watch your mouth. You’re gonna have to wash it out with soap later,” Warren said mockingly. The two began to circle each other.   
“You’re full of shit, you know that?” Kurt had his eyebrows furrowed and he pulled out the cutlass from its sheath.   
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Warren chuckled, cracking the whip again. Kurt flinched.   
“You know damn well I don’t,” the German said with gritted teeth. Warren smirked.   
“I dug up a little research on you. Wasn’t that hard really-,”  
“Have you always been this invested in German boys?” Kurt interrupted, inwardly proud at the sneer it caused Warren to give him.   
“The Incredible Nightcrawler,” Warren glared at Kurt. “You lived in the Munich circus your whole life, didn’t you? But it wasn’t always so nice.”  
“Warren,” Xavier said wearily, unsure of where this fight was going. Every other pair had already been fighting by now.   
“Le Cirque de Freak. That’s what they called it in Paris when I first heard of it,” Warren cracked the whip again. Flinch.   
“You’re so full of shit,” Kurt repeated himself, not knowing what else he could say at a time like this. He and Warren weren’t friends, but this? This was cruel.   
“Who’s Heinrich, Crawler? Huh? Was he the circus master?” Warren asked mockingly, looking more and more evil by the second.   
“He abused me,” Kurt said angrily, letting his fringe fall into his face and hide his eyes that were starting to fill with angry tears.   
“That’s not what the papers said, Crawler. No… let’s see if I can remember,” he cracked the whip again. “Oh yeah! He took you in. You had nobody and he took you in. Shouldn’t you be a little more grateful?”  
“Warren that’s enough,” Xavier interrupted Warren again, becoming more furious with the angel’s manipulative speech.   
“Bastard!” Kurt screamed, slashing his cutlass through the air, knowing both he and Warren could hear is slice through thin air.   
“What did he do to you, Crawler? Huh?!” Warren began raising his voice as the two stopped circling each other. “What did Heinrich do to you to make you such a whiny little bitch?!”  
“Shut up!” Kurt screamed, feeling the heat in his cheeks warm up his face.   
“Did he hurt your feelings?” Warren yelled, cracking the whip again and relishing in Kurt’s flinch. “Did he hurt your little fucking feelings? Did he make you cry?!”   
“Warren, stop it now,” Xavier raised his voice, knowing this manipulation would break Kurt.   
“Why should I, Professor,” Warren said sarcastically. “It’s not against the rules.”  
“It’s against my rules.” Warren shook his head.   
“Little Kurt Wagner. Can’t even take a few words or the sound of a whip without crying. Should I go tell your mommy you need to suck on her tit?”  
“Shut. The fuck. Up!” Kurt screamed, bamfing behind Warren and putting the angel in a chokehold.   
Warren mostly likely knew that was going to happen, and judo-flipped Kurt onto his back and on the ground. Taking his whip, he tried to whip Kurt, but the elf rolled away just in time.   
Kurt grabbed his sword and slashed as Warren tried to whip him again. The elf knew Warren only picked this weapon because Kurt was mentally scarred from it, not because he knew how to use it.   
The sword caught the tails of the whip and Kurt ripped it out of Warren’s hands, and he flung it out of their arena.   
“What do you plan on doing with that? Kill me?” Warren looked calm and at ease, although Kurt could tell he was mentally trying to plan how to reach his dufflebag that was currently to the right of Kurt.   
“That sounds really good right now. Honesty is a virtue, no?” Kurt snarled. Out of the corner of Kurt’s eyes, he saw Xavier looking rather worriedly at the two of them.   
“Do it then. Are you still a scared little bitch like you were the first time we fought?”  
Kurt let out a shaky breath and grabbed the dagger from his belt sheath and began slicing towards Warren, honestly not caring if the Angel dodged or not.  
“Kurt!” Xavier yelled, literally on the edge of his seat. The elf hardly heard him. He kept slicing at the air that Warrren kept dodging, looking increasingly worried that Kurt wasn’t going to stop.  
“You researched me? Did you find out who my father was?” Kurt paused, glaring at Warren and catching his breath. “They called him the devil. Red skin, tail, black suits… I inherited most things from my mother, but do not test me Engel. I will fucking kill you like my father would. I promise.”  
Warren’s eyes were full of confusion and fear. Before Kurt could lunge again, Warren slipped behind him, grabbing Kurt’s arm and twisting it behind his back, making the elf drop the knife and yelp in pain. Warren shoved him to the ground, knowing full well he could bamf at any second.  
“What do you want?” Warren heard Kurt whisper, specifically so Xavier couldn’t hear.  
“I want to win this fucking tournament,” he snarled, pressing Kurt’s arm further up his back, and he could hear Kurt hiss in pain. Kurt suddenly flipped over to his back, looking at Warren with teary eyes, and Warren subconsciously shielded Xavier’s view of the two of them with his wings.  
“Why would you do this?” Kurt whispered shakily. “Why would you bring a whip? You’re an asshole.” Kurt practically breathed the last word because his voice gave out.  
Warren’s cheeks grew hot, but not from embarrassment. He really was an asshole. He knew it was an asshole thing to do when he was researching, too.  
“I-” he couldn’t answer the teary eyed elf that lay beneath him. “I don’t know.”  
“That’s enough,” Charles’ voice said. “Kurt, Warren, you two are out of the competition. Go wait by the lake with the others who are done.”  
Warren relaxed his wings and stood up, stepping over Kurt’s legs as he walked away, glaring at Xavier.  
Kurt laid there for a few more seconds before taking a deep breath and bamfing to the lake. He teleported in a way that he would still be laying in the soft grass when he came to. Not ten minutes passed before Warren arrived at the lake and walked slowly to Kurt, wondering if this is really the thing he should be doing, when there were so many other students he could go and sit beside right now.   
“Crawler?” Warren’s voice seemed too loud, but that was probably Warren just being self conscious. Kurt didn’t respond, he simply kept looking up at the bright blue summer sky. Warren nodded slightly and sat down next to him, enjoying the quietness and the distant laughter and chatter of several other students.  
“Kurt-”  
“Fuck you.”  
Warren paused. ‘That’s fair…’ he thought. The two of them sat in silence, until Charles mentally told everyone that it was time for the results and to head to the basketball court. Warren sighed, knowing that the court was on the other half of the mansion, across a field, and the shortcut was a walk through the forest. “I’ll bamf you,” Kurt spoke up quietly, sitting up and avoiding looking at Warren altogether. Warren remembers bamfing in the apocalypse with Kurt, and it wasn’t something he was looking forward to doing again.  
“Just… close your eyes,” Kurt suggested, holding out his hand, but still feeling distant. Warren knew he fucked up. He wasn’t looking for a friendship, especially not to someone who royally fucked up his wings… but he certainly wasn’t looking for this.  
“Yeah, thanks,” Warren muttered, taking Kurt’s hand and immediately closing his eyes, unprepared for what was about to happen next. Kurt bamfed the two of them to the court and quickly stood up once they touched ground again, but Warren took a few moments to ground himself. Would he ever get used to that?  
Students began filing into the court, chattering about who they thought would get the prize, meanwhile, Kurt had already walked off, distancing himself from Warren as much as possible.  
‘Fuck’ was the only word Warren could think of at the moment, until Peter came zooming in. Then it was ‘fuck off.’  
Students began to file onto the basketball court and Warren was subsequently pushed to the back, but he hardly cared anymore. It wasn’t as if he was going to win anymore, especially since he was disqualified from the fourth tournament.  
Hank began thanking the students in their participation, and if they would like, this sort of thing would become biannually: the students cheered. He began reading off the winners, but everyone knew only first place truly mattered.  
First place: Peter Maximoff, Quicksilver  
Second place: Jean Grey, Phoenix  
Third place: Jean-Paul Beaubier, Northstar  
Etc.  
Warren began walking away when Peter exclaimed in the microphone provided by McCoy that he was going to use his privilege to skip classes this week and free pizza for everyone for the next week’s lunches.  
***  
Sitting on the roof of the mansion, Warren had his legs swung over the ledge, looking up at the stars and trying to remember the names of the constellations, but ultimately shrugging them off and just enjoying the view. A small, almost unheard noise came from behind him, and Warren turned around to see Kurt, looking at him, his hands shoved in his white hoodie’s pockets.   
Neither of them planned on leaving, so Kurt simply walked towards the ledge of the roof and sat down beside Warren, swinging his legs off the edge as well. They sat in silence before Warren had the courage to say, “Crawler, I’m sorry.”  
This time Kurt remained silent.   
“I wanted to win and I…” he looked down at his hands. “Look I don’t know how to do this, but I’m trying to say I was a complete asshole to do something like that.” Kurt didn’t look at him, but kept looking out at the night sky.  
“Keep going…” he muttered, and Warren scoffed.  
“I… Crawler you know there’s literally nothing I can say that will justify what I did, so can we just agree that I’m a complete asshole and shouldn’t be trusted?” Warren said, exasperated.  
Kurt nodded and said, “I’m good with that.”  
Warren wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He certainly wasn’t expecting forgiveness, but he wasn’t expecting Kurt to just… agree with him.  
“You can punch me if you want,” Warren mentioned.  
“I’m good,” Kurt said quietly, still looking like a wounded child. Warren knew he messed up really badly.  
“Warren,” he started, “Why would you… why would you do something like that? Why couldn’t you have just tried to kill me? That would have been so much easier that bringing a *fucking* whip,” the elf said, sounding as if he was on the brink of tears. Warren let him continue without interrupting. “What you did today was… I don’t even know the word I’m looking for. You played on abuse. Who the hell does that?” Kurt finally turned to Warren. “Why the fuck would you do that?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“That’s not a good enough answer.”  
“I know.”  
The two of them sat in silence before Kurt finally bamfed away, seemingly to his room to sleep, but Warren sat up there still, ignoring the pain in his heart and the ache in his lower back and legs from sitting on the concrete roof for so long.  
Warren wanted to be the winner so fucking badly, he played on someone’s (not just anybody, but someone who pulled him out of a plane crash and saved him) trauma, and for what? Even if he had one the tournament, would it have really been worth it? Warren shook his head. He was the winner at some things. Being an asshole was his biggest trophy, for one. Pushing people away was another, bonus points if they were people who had no reason to actually care about him, but they did anyway. In reality, Warren was the winner, but he was such a fucking loser at the same time.


End file.
